Destiny is a stalker & Fate can bite me
by Renfields-Spider
Summary: With onset of Armageddon the rules go out the window, anything and everything becomes possible. Rebelling against unseen forces Castiel and Dean find themselves on a path they never predicted. Dean/Castiel. Spoilers for Season Five.
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Sam is not quite sure when it happened, but he is starting to feel like the proverbial wheel of the third variety. He sits back and watches Dean explain exactly what a Twinkie is, to Cas. Cas is eyeing the sweet delight in Dean's hand with interest and suspicion. Dean is smiling as he explains that nothing, but nothing, can kill a Twinkie that they are the Superman of confection and when the apocalypse comes, Twinkies will still exist long after. Sam feels set apart from their conversation and uninvolved; he feels envious of the camaraderie that has grown between these two polar opposites. Dean appears at ease and relaxed around Cas, even though Cas tests his patience, Dean seems to have a deeper well of tolerance for the one-time angel. At least, that is how Sam see's it. Dean's patience for him is shallower in comparison.

Sam shifts his gaze back down to his laptop, which is flashing a new mail symbol. He reads it with disinterest, another weather report, nothing special. Nothing special was good, of course; too often lately, there had been something special, which meant Demons and hassle. But the last few days had been hassle free and downtime used for R&R - rest and research - while they could. Sam frowns and rubs his temple as he slouches over his laptop; _he'd_ certainly been researching and was starting to feel a little hard done by, Dean and Cas had contributed relatively little that afternoon towards the ceasing of Armageddon. Apparently, Dean thought trawling through diners and bars, time well spent researching.

Checking through various sites and news feeds he has bookmarked, Sam finds two potential leads for Demon activity; they are weak, and Sam needs to find more before they justify investigating anything. He looks up briefly to see Castiel hesitantly biting into a Twinkie, and the look of surprise and pleasure on the Angel's face causes Dean to smile widely in amusement. When exactly Dean and Castiel crossed the line from putting up with one another to friends, Sam couldn't put his finger on, but lately, Castiel has certainly been around more frequently. Helping Dean is a priority for Castiel, of course, but since the Angels fall from grace, he seemed to be latching on to Dean. Normally, Dean did not covert any unnecessary attachment into their lives, and by allowing Cas limited access, Dean broke the insular mold he has created for them both.

"Want me to frame that for you?" said Dean aggressively, who has turned to see Sam staring at him.

"Sorry," Sam mutters and looks back down at the laptop screen. He feels slightly embarrassed but still cannot help glancing back at Dean, who is still watching him.

"Seriously, Sammy, what?"

"Nothing. Well, except the Twinkie dust on your face," Sam points out and smirks as Dean wipes his mouth clean of crumbs. "Actually, I've got a couple of possibles for Demon activity, just seeing what else I can root out."

"Cool," says Dean, "let me know what you find," Dean turns away.

Sure, Sam thinks, I'll just get back to it then. He feels bubbles of resentment rising to the surface of his thoughts, but he pushes them back down. If Dean wants to spend time with Castiel and introduce the Angel to the various vices that Dean himself enjoys, then Sam thought that perhaps he should let him. He knew the memories of Hell were ever-present for Dean and Sam couldn't blame Dean for wanting some escapism. At least this way, the escape was healthier, than Deans time spent with Mr Daniels.

***

Castiel looks at the closed motel door for a moment before heading off. His expression is a confused one. He does not understand why he could not stay in the motel room. He has spent the entire day with the brothers, and does not see why he should not sit with them while they sleep. It seems a mutually beneficial arrangement where he could watch over them while they rest and Castiel would not have to wander alone. Not that he told them he wanders alone at night or sits on a bench until dawn.

He recalls the choice phrases that Dean and Sam had used, 'Hell no,' and 'That's just creepy, dude.' He is not exactly sure why it was creepy or why it was so unacceptable but he hadn't argued it, he had just left instead. Now he finds himself watching and waiting, he would guard them from the outside instead. He sits on a wall the other side of the car park, far enough to give Sam and Dean space, and far enough so they won't see him, in the dark, if they leave for any reason.

He is glad that they are hard to find, thanks to the glyphs etched into the duo's very bones. Still, Castiel feels watching over them oddly satisfying and he feels responsible for Dean, for everything that happened after he wrenched Dean from the abysses of Perdition. He feels a moment of respite; he is relieved he does not need to sleep often because when he does, the unconscious always speaks to him of his guilt. The guilt that Dean is frequently in pain, troubled and sometimes lost within. Castiel tries to be there for Dean, to keep him on his path, wherever that might lead. The only real problem with that is Castiel is unsure where they are all heading.

For Castiel, the uncertainty he is feeling is unbearable. For his entire life, Castiel has known exactly what to do, where to go and who to smite. He was a good soldier for the cause. Now, he no longer knows what it is he has been fighting for all these years. All he does know is that it all changed after he saved Dean. The uncertainty crept in and Dean caused him to stop and question the orders he had been following, orders he was so sure were right. How many had died at his hand, how many could he have saved, how many times had he followed the wrong command? Castiel feels nauseated at the maelstrom of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The torrent overwhelms him and he whispers, "Why?"

He starts at the sound of his own voice and he immediately glances around to see if anyone heard. There is nothing but the darkness and silence. Not surprised by the lack of response, Castiel knows his Father either cannot or will not speak to him.

Castiel regards the silent void of where his surety of faith used to be, like an open grave, waiting to be filled, but only ever offering oblivion.

I have seen death, Castiel thinks; I have known its cold and empty touch. There is nothing after death. The thought suffocates him and leaves him feeling the chill of mortality, alone in a motel car lot. For a brief and foolish moment, he considers sneaking back into the motel room, but he is sure they would hear him. Fear and loneliness are new concepts to Castiel, and he is unsure how to cope with them. His is blind and fumbling around in a world that is not his own, in a life, which was never meant to be his.

It never occurs to Castiel, for one single second, that this is how most mortals feel.

The only way forward for Castiel now, is to watch over Dean, the vessel, and make sure he comes to no harm, but not for Michael. It is not a task he chooses lightly but one he knows is right. For whatever Dean is and wherever he is going, Castiel knows he will follow Dean there. In this, he finds comfort, in the absolute clarity of belief in Dean, he is a rebel now, and Dean is his cause.

Castiel looks up and sees that the sky is starting to lighten and dawn has come. The growing warmth chases away the cold of the dark thoughts Castiel has been thinking and he stands up. He watches as people start to stir and seek out sustenance. Time passes quickly sometimes, Castiel notes it is usually when he is deep in thought, that hours can pass like minutes.

The door to Dean and Sam's room opens, and Dean steps out. Castiel watches Dean blink blearily at the sunlight and shield his eyes; he knows Dean will be off to get coffee and breakfast. Dean spots Castiel, waves him over, the Angel waves awkwardly back, and crosses the car park, heading towards Dean. Castiel doesn't notice the sudden lack of cold, or the warmth he now feels instead, he does not even realise that the warmth is hope.

***

"I swear he was out there all night," Dean says quietly to Sam, so Castiel can't hear him.

Sam looks from Dean to Castiel, who is reading an old tome of Bobby's, "What, all night in the lot, watching us?" Sam's tone is mildly surprised, not because Castiel watched them all night anyway, but because Dean seems to care that he has.

"Yeah," Dean sips his coffee, frowning in Castiel's direction. "It's bit stalkery, don't y'think?"

"Why does it bother you what he does when he's not with us? I'm sure he must have been watching us before we even met him, it's what he does. Well, when he doesn't have something else to do."

"Don't say that," Dean winces.

"Why?"

"Because that makes me think he was watching me when I had..." Dean hesitates briefly, "a shower and stuff."

Sam looks slightly disgusted at Dean's train of thought. "I'm sure an Angel of the Divine Lord would have much better things to do Dean, than watch you… shower."

Dean snorts and it draws Castiel's attention, he stops reading and puts down the book. He looks curiously at the two of them but doesn't ask why they are laughing. Sam feels self-conscious and offers, "Funny email," as some sort of explanation. Castiel doesn't smile or comment, just picks up his book again, and starts reading. Sam and Dean exchange a glance, Sam doesn't think he will ever get used to the Angels lack of humour.

"Did you find anything else on those leads you had yesterday," Dean asks in a normal tone.

"Very little, at least, not enough to start travelling across the country or anything."

"Anything else?"

Sam thinks for a moment, "There are some missing kids in the next town over, not sure if it's our brand of missing though."

"How far away are they?"

"An hours ride or so. Looks like they went missing two days ago and the article comments on a previous unsolved missing kid case."

"Unusual elements?"

"Only some weird symbols found near the area they disappeared, and some blood that matched one of the girls DNA." Sam points to a picture on the webpage for Dean.

"Sounds like our brand of weird," Dean says stuffing a huge amount of muffin in his mouth.

"It's pretty weak, but I guess we've had less to go on before. There's a photo of the symbols, I'll copy them out see and if I can't match them to anything else." Sam starts to copy out the symbols on to a piece of paper and can't help but think this is one of those times he would love to have a printer.

Dean squints at the screen and chews. He looks round at Castiel, who has already put his book down, and given the hunters his full attention. Dean points at the screen and says, "Cas why don't you have looksee." Except Dean's mouth is still full of food and Castiel looks confused, Dean points again and swallows hard, "Come look at the weird writing and grace us with your divine knowledge."

Castiel frowns slightly, but stands and walks round to see the picture Dean is drawing his attention too. He stares at the screen momentarily and gains a quizzical look. "Those are protection runes," he leans in closer, "the glyph is wrong, however. Written like this, they would protect nothing."

"Wrong deliberate or wrong stupid?" Dean asks.

"There is no way to surmise that Dean," Castiel states.

Dean rolls his eyes, "Best guess then."

"I don't like to guess."

"Try." Dean's tone sounds like its running low on patience.

"I would… _guess_ by mistake then, the marks are hesitant and ill-formed, an amateur wrote this."

"Right then, I _guess_ we'll look into it then."

***

Dean stares at the road ahead, it is clear and sunny, and he can only wish his path were so brightly lit. His mind wanders to the places that daylight can't reach and he feels the dread rise. All too often lately he has felt the growing feeling of dread, he's not sure why he is feeling so uncertain and misplaced, but coupled with the nightmares and waking visions of Hell, Dean feels wrung out. He rarely feels moments of respite and the feeling of oppression gets worse whenever he is stuck in a grubby motel room with Sam. He feels his brother's eyes watching him sometimes, what exactly he is watching for, Dean doesn't know, but its only part of what makes him feel uncomfortable. The rest he just plain cannot put his finger on.

He glances to one side to look at his brother, who is fiddling with his mobile and then looks back to the road. "Sudoku, Sammy, really?"

Sam looks up at Dean, "So?" Sam says in a defensive tone.

"Geek," Dean sneers slightly but doesn't take his eyes off the road. He knows Sam is avoiding talking to him, not that he blames him; he rarely knows what to say to Sam these days. Where would he even start? Don't worry bro, I'm sure it doesn't really matter you started the apocalypse. Bullshit, it matters, he knows it, and I know it, Dean thinks.

There are moments of relief but for him they are all too brief. Dean doesn't like to be lonely - he is used to it though, being on the road all the time but finds quiet comfort in Cas's company every now and then. The former Angel has many annoying points that frustrate Dean to hell but he finds Castiel's innocent qualities amusing. And he likes the fact he has nothing to hide from Castiel, who knows exactly what Dean is, although the feeling that Cas can read him like a book is less comforting.

Dean ponders on what Castiel is doing while the two of them travel. Cas is meeting them there and he said he would scout about a bit and see what he can find. Dean has wondered the last few weeks exactly what is it Castiel does when he is not with them. He has caught Castiel watching them on the odd occasion but it just seems to Dean that the guy never takes a break. Dean is reassured and creeped, knowing Cas watches them, probably without their knowledge, most of the time.

Guilt creeps a little in to Dean's mind, when he considers all the free time Castiel must have now, that he has rebelled against heaven. Dean is very aware that it was his own actions that caused Castiel to rebel, but he doesn't feel so guilty that he would change how things happened. He has gained an ally and a friend. Dean smiles to himself. Castiel wasn't much on the talking or on the appreciation of chicks, but he does seem to be the sort of friend who'd die for him. Hell, he already has once. And you can take that to the bank.

"What are you smirking at?" Sam asks.

"Investments, Sammy," Dean says still smiling.

"Investments?"

"Yup."

"Don't you have to be alive to see the benefit of an investment?"

"Yup. That's kinda the point."

"You are fricking weird sometimes, you know that?"

Dean chuckles, "I plan on having a future, Sam."

Sam stares at Dean for a few beats, "What about being Michael's vessel, destiny, fate and all of that minor stuff?"

"I have no intention of being a vessel, I've seen what happens to those dudes," Dean grins," Besides, I think destiny is a stalker and fate can bite me."

*** *** ***

_**AN: Chapter two already in progress, be up in a few days :)**_

_**Renfields Spider**_


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

The town is dusty and arid, it has little in the way of modern convenience, but Dean and Sam manage to find a small motel, the Desert Sands, whose décor has not seen the other side of the eighties. Dean views the room with distain. The wallpaper alone is enough to make Deans eyes slightly cross if he looks at it for too long. He sniffs the air and kicks the bed. There is a weird squeak; he sits gently on it to test it, his eyebrow raising slightly clearly suspect of its ability to support him. The bed groans but holds his weight; Dean's expression is still sceptical. Dean really wants to get going and start looking for the missing girls, anything to get away from the claustrophobic silence in the motel room. He sits watching Sam unpack the laptop and plug it in to charge, they don't have much in the way of belongings so it doesn't take Sam very long. Sam looks over to Dean; silence measures the unseen gulf between them.

Sam boots up the laptop. "Where do we start then?" Dean says.

"We'll have to be careful, there might already be FBI involved in a case like this, plus two strange men nosing about can't look good. We can't use our usual tactics until we are one hundred percent sure we aren't drawing attention to ourselves," Sam types in his password and brings up the information he already has on the girls.

"Ok softly, softly. Check," Dean looks thoughtful for a moment and rubs his chin. "Shouldn't we suit-up?"

"I'll phone the locals and ask for the FBI, if they don't know what I am talking about I'll tell them there are agents on the way. Then we can suit up if necessary."

Dean watches as Sam takes out one of the spare cells they always carry around with them and place it next to the laptop. A few seconds typing later and he has the number for the local law enforcement and is dialling. Dean is silent throughout Sam's call, he allows his mind to wander further afield than the confines of the dingy room he is sitting in.

A brief flicker crosses Dean's face, when he thinks of the destiny that is in store for him. Screw that, he thinks, I'm not going to be anyone's bitch. He smirks a little as he recalls the time Cas called Raphael, his 'little bitch,' he couldn't think of anything better to add. The memory brought Cas's behaviour to Dean's attention, how he personally has effected and changed Cas over the last few months. They were good changes as far as he could see. Nothing wrong with removing the stick from up Cas's proverbial. Besides having an Angel as a back up buddy was extremely reassuring… well, sometimes.

Sam finishes his call, and from the parts Dean overheard, at least when he wasn't thinking about other things, he knew they were in the clear as far as the FBI were concerned and could suit up. It doesn't take long for them both to change, though Dean wonders sometimes how they ever manage to keep their suits clean and pressed. Dean mentally shrugs, he doesn't care.

"What about Cas, should we wait and see if he has anything first?" Dean says.

Sam smirks, "You could try giving him a call."

Dean looks surprised, "What, oh yeah," he pats himself down, finds his cell and speed dials Cas. "Cas? Yeah we are here… Motel… Desert Sands," Dean takes the cell from his ear, blinks at it for a few beats, and then puts it back in his pocket. Seconds later, there is a knock at the door.

Dean opens the door and Castiel strides in, "I have been unable to locate the children or find the source of their disappearance. The local authorities are out in force looking for the girls and are being quite hostile non-townspeople," Castiel looks windswept, but then he always looks windswept to Dean.

"Hey, Cas, how you doing? I'm doing swell, thanks for asking. Why no, we haven't had time to eat or even take a leak… but hell, maybe we should just dispense with all that human rubbish."

Castiel cocks his head slightly before he speaks, "Then you should see to your biological functions quickly so that we may proceed."

Dean chuckles lightly and shakes his head; Castiel stares at him then says, "You are being sarcastic."

"Yes, Cas, I was being sarcastic," Dean says.

"Your tone… Sometimes I find it hard to understand your intentions. I was under the impression that two children are missing and their lives might depend on our decisive action in this case. But if you need to urinate… then do so, I will go save the children," Castiel turns and walks away.

Sam smirks at Dean, who looks at Sam, "What?"

"Dude, Cas just handed you your ass on a plate," Sam walks on after Castiel leaving Dean alone. Dean stands still momentarily, staring at the open doorway, bemused.

Dean replays the conversation in his head; he is starting to suspect that Castiel has more of a sense of humour than he lets on sometimes. He kinda likes the fact that Castiel can keep him on his toes and the surprises just keep on coming. Dean notices that Castiel had his game face on; he admires Castiel's dedication to the cause, even if sometimes that led to some spectacularly bad decisions in Dean's opinion, he respects Cas's relentlessness. That unwavering dedication reminds Dean of how he used to be, a different Dean in a different time. Dean grabs his keys from the table and trots after Sam and Cas, slamming the door shut behind him.

Sam and Castiel are waiting by the car for Dean. He opens the car, gets in, and waits for Castiel to get in the back. Castiel looks around at the inside of the car and pulls out an old burger wrapper, he gives it to Sam, who is leaning in through the window; Sam chucks it on the sidewalk. Dean is aware that Castiel is out of his comfort zone, well if the Angel has a comfort zone, and can see him staring at the back of his head in the rear-view mirror.

Sam looks at his mobile, "Got a missed call from Bobby," Sam removes himself from the window and takes a few steps away from the car to make the call, leaving Dean and Cas alone.

"I could meet you at the local authority's headquarters or the parents abode," Castiel says, still looking at the back of Dean's head.

"What's the matter, Cas, don't you like my car?" Dean pulls a hurt face.

"The car is fine but there are other things I could be achieving."

Dean turns around to look at Cas, "Like what?"

"I could be searching, watching the parents or finding other alternatives to just sitting here."

"Are you saying we hairless apes are going to slow for you?"

Castiel nods seemingly relieved that Dean understands his situation, "Yes that is exactly it."

Dean snorts derisively and turns back to the wheel of his car, "Go on then, do you disappearing Angel thingy and leave us lesser beings to grunt and scratch our collective asses." Dean looks in the mirror and sees that Castiel is gone already. Dean feels disappointment leech in. He always feels just that little bit safer with Cas around, though he would deny it if asked. Dean thinks it is strange how Castiel has managed to become part of his and Sam's dynamic duo. Plenty of people had tried before and while a choice few of them had been welcome at the time, almost all of them had gotten themselves killed or maimed. Dean's mind wanders to Bobby and then to others. All too often, the people he cared about, or had started to care about, were caught in the crossfire. Sometimes being a hunter blew, hell, who was he kidding, it sucked pretty much all of the time. Dean sighs and tries to put those thoughts out of his head. He taps the wheel impatiently, waiting for Sam to finish his call. He turns on the stereo, finds something he wants to listen to, and turns it up to eleven.

*******

Sam turns to look at the car, music is blaring out, but even so, he can hear Dean drumming away to some rock tune. Irritated, Sam puts a finger in the ear he isn't using to block out the song, and tries to focus on what Bobby is saying.

"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying, Sam?" Bobby says, clearly annoyed.

"Yes, sorry, say that part again, Dean is listening to Van Halen again."

"I said, you're wasting your time up there. There's a ton of demon sign roughly a hundred miles due south of your current position. What are you up to anyways?"

Sam sighs, "We are looking into a couple of kids that went missing, possibly something occult. I spent some time looking around before we came here, I didn't see any serious activity… where were you looking?" Sam is curious, has he missed something or did Bobby get his information from somewhere else.

"Oh, you know, the usual sources," Bobby says evasively, "Well I guess it can hold for now, as long as you two don't sit around hugging, talking about your feelings or nothing."

Sam feels Bobby is not telling the whole truth, but knows better than to ask, if Bobby don't want to tell, he won't, simple as. "Well, if you are sure it can wait, and then we'll try and wrap up here as quickly as we can."

"Ok then. You know where I am if you need me, and by that I mean don't call me for a chat." Bobby hangs up before Sam could say another thing. Smiling, Sam knew that Bobby's gruff façade was little more than a show. Bobby, more than anyone had shown him and Dean what real family means, and Sam was grateful for that. He puts the cell away, walks back over to the car, and gets in. Automatically, Sam turns down the music, from eleven to less deafening. He ignores the scandalised look he receives from Dean.

"What did Ironside want?" Dean asks.

"He found some demon sign, apparently he has a source of information we don't, but he said it could wait. In Bobby time, that probably means a few days only, so we had better get going on this."

"So the plan now is; local law and parent's after," Dean starts the car and pulls out of the lot.

"Where did Cas go?" Sam says glancing into the back seat.

"He had better things to do, rather than wait with us or sit in the car, apparently," Dean's tone is indifferent.

"You just aren't quick enough for him, Dean, even with wheels," Sam looks briefly in Dean's direction, trying not to smirk.

"This car is a babe; Cas just doesn't understand class when he sees it."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get going before the heavy petting starts."

Dean lovingly strokes the dashboard, "Ignore him, baby, he wouldn't know class if it bit him on the ass," Dean pauses thinking about what he just said, "And I am a poet, but didn't know it." Clearly pleased with himself, Dean grins.

There is little conversation on the way to the local law enforcement but plenty of loud music, at least until they pulled up and then Dean turns the music off. Sam knows the music is Dean's way of filling the silence between them. Even though they are back together again, Sam knows that irreparable damage had been done. It wasn't a matter of time will heal, it was more, would Dean ever trust him again. Deep down inside, sometimes Sam wonders if accepting Lucifer's offer might be the easy way out. Easy was pretty tempting, especially, in the dark hours when he thought about everything he had done. But he wouldn't be that guy again, not ever, not to Dean. He wasn't going to roll over without a fight and he would take as many demons with him as he could. And he is pretty sure that is how Dean feels too.

They pull up outside the station and go in to see what they can find out. Sam notices Dean glancing around before they go in, no doubt looking for Castiel. They find out the girls have been missing for nearly forty-eight hours and the last place they were seen is an old house near some woods. It sounds typical of the sort of thing they expected to be told. The locals welcomed the help; they were truly concerned for the girls' safety. Dean was sure to mention Castiel to the law, just in case they saw him hanging around; better safe than sorry.

While they were driving to the old house near the woods, Sam considers Dean's concern for Castiel. Their twosome had become a threesome. And Sam thought he knew why, at least on this occasion, Dean has let another into their previously exclusive club. He let Dean down and Castiel stepped into the breach. Castiel is obviously a friend to Dean, to them both, but he clearly favoured Dean. It isn't that Sam feels Castiel dislikes him, but that Castiel can see right through him, and Sam hates that transparency. For everything, Sam thought he had been fighting for in the past, Castiel had thought Sam would fail, good intentions be damned. And Sam hadn't done anything to prove him wrong. In the end, Castiel had achieved what he could not; he saved Dean from Hell. Sometimes he felt left out of the dynamic that has sprung up between Dean and the Angel, but he does not resent Dean a friend and companion, Sam knows they both have had too few friends in their lives.

Sam has noticed a few other things about Castiel's time spent with Dean that he is not quite comfortable. For one, the Angel seems to be following Dean around like a lost puppy, a dangerous and potentially lethal puppy. It wasn't hero worship, Sam is sure of that but he is clearly a little lost. Sam is a little worried about Castiel's fall from grace, he isn't entirely sure how Angels deal with things but if they were anything at all like humans, Sam is sure Cas must be feeling some grief for what has happened. Yet, Sam had seen no evidence of loss, nor heard the Angel speak of it at all. If Sam didn't know any better he would have said Castiel is lonely, but isn't even sure if the Angel even knows what that is. The other thing Sam has noticed is the Angels newfound eagerness to try new things. It is extremely disconcerting to Sam, the amount of pleasure Dean gets out of introducing Cas to his vices. Even more disturbing is the reaction Castiel has to these sessions, he clearly enjoys them.

"Sam?" Sam looks at Dean; he has stopped the car and opened his door. "Are you getting out or do you need a minute?" Annoyance dripped from Dean's tone and he got out and slammed the door firmly, but not hard enough to do damage, of course. Sam clearly hadn't been listening to Dean because his thoughts had been far away and now his brother is pissed at him. Through the windshield, Sam can see Castiel waiting at the foot of the old house's pathway. Sam sighed, Dean would ignore him in preference for Castiel now, but he'd rather that, than stony silence.

*******

Castiel is pacing up and down the lay-by near the old house, where the children were seen last. He see's evidence of adult footprints, he is sure the authorities missed and a slight tingle in his flesh he can't quite explain. There definitely seems to be more to this case than just kidnapping or disappearance. He walks up the road to the house and feels the hairs on Jimmy's arm rise, something about this place was reacting with him, and it bothers him that he does not know what it is. He hears the distant rumble of Dean's car and relaxes slightly, pleased that the brothers have finally caught up with him.

He watches as Dean gets out of the car, slamming the door, and stomps over to where he is standing. It is not a surprise to Castiel; he is familiar with the brother's frequent outbursts and seemingly endless arguments. As he watches Dean, the hunter looks up and nods in greeting, to Castiel, who gives the smallest of nods back.

"So what have we got Cas?" Castiel sees that Dean is not in a playful mood, Castiel is almost thankful, as he finds it hard to follow conversation when Dean is 'being funny'.

"I have found some adult human footprints and indications that they walked off into the woods; I would have followed but…" Castiel trails off looking towards the woods momentarily, he feels the tingle again.

"But…" Dean prompted impatiently, his eyes narrowing.

"But there is a presence here… I have a sense or feeling of something else at work. I do not know what, however," Castiel's eyes drag themselves back to Dean, who still looks short on humour.

"So what's that… an Angel hunch?"

"Dean, Angels do not have hunches."

"Ok, what would you call it then?" Dean says looking into the woods where Castiel had been looking.

"A feeling."

Dean rolls his eyes and wipes his hand over his face, "An Angel feeling that is almost but not entirely unlike a hunch?"

Castiel looks at Dean for a moment, "Yes."

"Well, I'm glad we cleared that up."

"We have yet to ascertain anything yet, Dean. We are still very much in the dark."

"You are damn hard work sometimes, Cas, d'you know that?" Dean turns his back on Castiel and starts walking up the path to the house and Castiel follows. Neither seems to notice that Sam has not joined them. After no answer at the house, Dean and Castiel look around the back of the house and are generally nosey until they are satisfied with what they have seen. They walk back down the path and meet Sam at the gate, who is watching them.

"So what's the score?" Sam asks.

"Cas thinks that the girls went into the woods and has a hunch there's some sort of 'presence' floating around nearby."

"I did not say I had a hunch or that what I felt was floating," Castiel says correcting Dean, who is nonchalant.

"Well, there is a search party in the woods but they have moved further in. I reckon we could have a look and see how far they have got and if they missed anything," Sam adds. Dean doesn't say anything but starts in the direction of the woods, Castiel follows him, equally silent.

After five minutes of walking and looking around Sam finds a sigil engraved on a pine tree. He points it out to Dean, who calls over Castiel. Castiel stares at it and says, "It's very old, but implies this place is sacred."

Dean looks around, "Yeah, but sacred to who… or what?"

After twenty more minutes of searching, they find the direction that the search party headed and start to go that way, when Sam notices another sigil on a tree that leads in a different direction.

"Perhaps we should split up, I will follow the sigils, and you both can catch up with the search parties to find out what they have learned." Castiel is surprised to hear the brothers both object to him going off on his own into the woods. He is even more surprised to hear the younger Winchester suggest that Dean should go with him.

"I mean it, I'll go follow up the search party, and it will be quicker. If there is anything you can't handle, just make sure you both get out of there quick," Sam looks at Castiel meaningfully, making it clear he should get his brother out of trouble if it occurred. Castiel gives Sam an imperceptively small nod of understanding, although Castiel feels Sam should know he would do that for Dean anyway. Castiel watches as Sam walks away, there was something different in Sam's manner lately. Castiel was not proficient at identifying specifics when it came to human feelings but he did not ponder on it, or look deeper for an answer, he merely carried on with the task at hand.

Castiel and Dean carry on up the path, every now and then finding another sigil, always the same sign, always old and encased in sticky resin. Castiel finds himself watching Dean, the hunter on the hunt. He finds it fascinating to see Dean focused and hard at work, face determined and resolute. He then sees Dean bend and pick something up, and as Dean turned he saw that it was a confection wrapper, not unlike things he has seen him eating. He watched Dean sniff the wrapper.

"Blueberry; smells recently opened. Not necessarily the girls of course, but someone has been up here recently." Dean looks around some more and then back at Castiel, "We could be in here for days, and never find these kids."

Castiel nods, knowing Dean is not giving up, but commenting on how hard the job was, Castiel has learnt that difference. Castiel senses that Dean is pausing for a momentary break, so he also looks around, he starts to say something… when it hits him. The full force of the presence he has been feeling the entire time in the woods. It is overwhelming, it paralyses him, and he feels hands on his shoulders shaking him, a voice calling his name. All he can see is the green of the canopy above him becoming lighter and lighter until he can bear it no more; he hears his own scream a few seconds before there is total silence...

***

AN: Hope you all liked :) Chapter three already on its way :)


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Dean is used to the scary shit that can happen; he keeps a cool head and is calm; he is the rock that people look to when things get terrifying. When he sees Castiel go rigid on the spot, he is calm, he gets straight over to him, gives him a manly shake, and calls his name. He is cool even when Castiel's eyes start to roll up into his head and he appears to be having some sort of fit. But when Castiel starts screaming, a fearful, heart-stopping scream, Dean's blood turns to ice in his veins. He is scared. If Castiel is screaming, if something is affecting him in that way, then Dean sure as hell doesn't want a meet and greet. Dean does not run, of course, but he does get his gun out whilst trying to stop Castiel from falling on his face and look everywhere at once. He can feel the Angel's body shaking in his arms, but thankfully, the scream stops, and Dean lays him on the ground. Dean sees and feels nothing, but he knows that is no reason to let his guard down. After five minutes or so, of nothing happening, Dean decides the threat has passed for now. If whatever it was wanted to eat or just kill them, it would have done so by now. He puts the gun in the front of his trousers and crouches by Castiel.

"Cas? Cas?" Dean shakes Castiel again but gets no response. He takes out his cell phone… no coverage, not a surprise in the woods. They had assumed that Cas would've been able to pull them both out of any trouble, what a stupid assumption. He and Sam were both reliant on Castiel's skills; they never would have split up like that before. That wasn't Cas's fault, but they should have been more careful, they knew better.

"Oh, ok then, you just lay down on the job, Cas," Dean shakes him again, only more in violent frustration than in an effort to wake him. "Oh come on, wake up." He spitefully rubs Castiel's sternum with his knuckles, known to be extremely painful and known to wake some people up, but not Castiel in this case. Concerned and frowning Dean looks around once more. "Don't you make me drag your sorry divine ass through the woods." Dean isn't exactly sure why he's getting so cross at the unconscious Angel, but he has to at someone. He knows that by talking, he fights the fear that is trying to crawl up inside his head. Dean's eyes flit everywhere, and he watches until he can see two choices; sit here and wait or get up and go, or drag in this case. He looks at Castiel and knows that it's going to take a massive feat to lift and carry the Angel down the wooded slope they had walked up. He moves the gun to the back of his waistband, then bends over and tries to pick Castiel up. After a couple of attempts, he manages to throw Castiel over his shoulder.

"Dude, you have got to lose some weight."

Dean's progress is slow and he knows the thirty minute walk they breezed earlier may well take him hours, with his extra burden, all the while assuming they were being pursued. He has to stop and rest occasionally, taking the opportunity to listen quietly to the sound of the woods and check his cell for coverage. After an hour of walking, trying not to think about how close his hand was to Cas's ass, he trips and falls. He is fine, he lands on Cas, but now Castiel has a cut, some grazes to the face, and no doubt a nice bruise, given some time. Dean wipes the blood off, checks his cell again and listens to the woods. A twig snaps. Dean twists round in the direction of the sound, his hand reaching for the gun behind him, slowly he pushes Cas's head off his lap, and he crouches, watching, waiting. He feels the hair on the back of his neck stand, cold sweat from his efforts trickle down his face and a chill runs through his body. He senses rather than sees that something is extremely close to him, his pulse pounds in his ears; he doesn't know what direction to point the gun.

The feeling passes as quickly as it came and Dean immediately picks Castiel up, feeling a moment of strength in the face of his fear. He walks much faster than he did before and falls over a few more times, however, he does not stop to rest, just picks up Castiel, and keeps on moving. All the while, muttering to Cas about what a heavy ass he is and a diet is on the cards, even though he knows Castiel does not eat much. It never occurs to Dean to leave Castiel behind, despite the effort, despite the danger. He could no more abandon Cas than he would his own brother. These are not things Dean thinks about in the front of his mind; they are instinctive thoughts, his actions reactionary. And even when his lungs burn and every step he takes is white fire, there is no thought of stopping.

When he reaches the bottom of the slope, where they split up from Sam, he takes a moment to rest, leaning Castiel against a tree. He checks his cell and sees he has one bar. He speed dials Sam. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"You need to get back to the car right now, you'll probably meet me on the way, dragging a heavy ass Angel, don't ask, just motor it."

Sam takes longer than Dean thinks, but he manages to get Castiel back to the car and get him into the back seat. Dean's throat is dry and he is dehydrated from his exertion. He finds a bottle of soda in the car, it's warm and lost its fizz, but it is wet and that's all that counts. He gulps it down.

"What happened to Cas?" Sam asks, practically jumping out at Dean.

Dean jumps slightly but tries to cover it. "We need to get him back to the motel, pronto."

"Is he alright?" Sam peers into the rear window.

"Yeah… he's just fine, he thought it would be a real humdinger to have me drag his unconscious body through the woods for hours scared out _my goddamn wits_!" Dean shouts the last part; he can feel his legs trembling from the effort he has made. All he wants to do is shower and sleep, in that order.

"What about a hospital?"

"It's not that sort of problem, believe me, it's something else." Dean looks and fails to find anything else to drink but then spots the flask of holy water. He picks it up, opens the lid, sniffs, shrugs, and downs it. Sam looks at Dean, clearly disapproving, but saying nothing.

Dean slams the boot shut, then walks round and gets into the drivers side. He looks at Cas slumped in the back seat and feels his stomach tighten in concern. Whatever that thing is, it worried Dean. He isn't sure what this thing has to do with the missing girls, but he wasn't going to find out with out talking to Cas first. That's assuming Cas wakes up. He starts the car and drives too fast back to the motel, Sam says nothing about the driving until he hears Cas's head clunk against the window, round a particularly tight bend. "Dean…" Dean says nothing, but eases off the pedal determined to get back to the motel and leave the fearful experience behind him.

***

Once they arrive at the motel, Sam helps Dean get Castiel out of the car. While they are struggling to do so, a young couple stop to stare at them with no small amount of suspicion. Sam smiles at them, as effacingly as he can, and says, "Stag night," as an explanation shrugging apologetically. The girl of the couple shakes her head, while the man smiles out of her eyeshot, they move on allowing Dean and Sam to get Castiel into the motel room. Together they sit him down on to one of the beds, take off his coat, and lay him down. Sam looks down at Cas and assesses his injuries. He looks a bit beat up to Sam but physically he can see no reason for Castiel to be unconscious. Sam looks round to his brother, who is standing at the end of the bed, looking down on Castiel. Sam sees worry etched on his brothers face. Sam is also concerned, but mainly because the thing that did this to Cas would be formidable and that made their jobs a lot harder. They still needed to find the girls, but they really needed to have Cas on board for that.

Sam cleans up Cas's wounds and dresses whatever needs dressing. Normally, Cas would've taken care of that himself but who knew what was happening with him right now. All the while, he tends to Cas; Dean sits on the opposite bed, perching like a hawk watching for any sign of life, from Castiel. He doesn't move, not that night. Nor the night after that.

Three days later and Sam really wishes he'd wake up now. Sam finds Dean's concern for Castiel annoying, he supposes that he should be glad that Dean is showing empathy for another being but he simply finds Dean's worried behaviour trying. What did that say about him?

The first irritating thing was that Sam has to sleep on the grotty sofa in their motel room. Dean slept in the other bed, opposite Castiel. Dean had explained it at the time, the pain in his back and legs, from carrying Castiel all the way back from the woods, was the reason why he needs to sleep in the bed. While there probably is some truth to it, it just felt like an excuse to Sam; something in his brother's demeanour told him so. The very fact that Dean would want to sit and watch Castiel so closely, was frankly, a bit creepy. But then again, Sam could see that they were soldiers in a war, close camaraderie is perfectly normal, apparently. Plus, Sam knew that Dean felt that he owed Castiel, big time.

The second taxing thing was that now one of them always has to sit with Castiel. Sam phoned Bobby and could have asked him to babysit the comatose angel, but somehow that just didn't seem right. So Sam had merely asked for the older hunter's advice and left it at that. Bobby had no leads for them, the only thing he suggested was to get the hell out of Dodge before what knocked Cas out, knocks them out too. Instead, Dean and Sam took turns halo watching, as Dean coined it, while the other did the legwork and tried to find out what the hell was going on. They did background research on the town; more specifically the woods but they found little and certainly nothing in the way of their brand of weird. Taking turns would have been fine but Sam found himself doing most of the groundwork, Dean doing most of the short jobs like fetching food. Dean claimed it was his back hurting again.

That wasn't the worst of it however; it was the nights that were troubling Sam. For the last three nights, since Castiel had collapsed, Dean had been unbearable. Dean woke at every sound, and once Sam had seen him sitting on the side of his own bed, leaning forward, just watching Cas breath. Genuinely, Sam cares and hopes that Castiel will wake up soon, but watching him sleep seems a bit much from where he was sitting, laying… whatever.

They had tried a few things to wake Cas up, but none of it had worked. Sam drew the line when Dean started randomly shouting "Boo!" at Castiel, in the vain hope he might wake up. Now, Sam is really starting to worry what will happen if Castiel doesn't wake up. He is sure that Dean will not be giving up hope on the Angel anytime soon, so how long do they devote time to watching him. There is a war to fight, and at some point, they both might have to accept Castiel is just another casualty. Sam decides that if Castiel is still unconscious in a weeks time and there was no sign of the situation changing, they would have to take him over to Bobby, and whether he wanted to or not, Bobby would have to halo-sit. After all, those girls were still missing and Lucifer is still out there, waiting for his moment.

And it is Sam's turn again to go out and source information, just as soon as Dean gets back with the food. Sam glances over to the bed where Castiel lays peacefully ignorant to the rest of existence. Sam envies that a little, the escape, not the coma. Sam believes that Castiel will wake up eventually, but what will be left when he does?

Sam shuts the laptop down and gets ready for Dean to come back. He will have to eat quickly, as it is already getting dark and he wants to go back, have a look near the woods, and see if anyone is home at the creepy house. Of course, he won't be mentioning that to Dean.

Sam jumps as he hears Castiel stir in his bed and sigh. Sam stands next to the bed for the next ten minutes watching to see if Castiel wakes up. He hears the door, sees Dean standing with one armful of bags and a six-pack in the other hand. Dean stands still, raising an eyebrow at Sam before continuing into the room. He starts slowly unpacking the bags and glancing at Sam. Sam is familiar with that knowing look; it usually comes before a quip and a smug look on Dean's face.

"What?" Sam asks, finally breaking.

"Nothing," Dean says and continues to unpack, "it's just that you never struck me as a sleep watcher." The smug look appears on Dean's face.

"I'm not, usually, I just thought I heard Cas stir, is all," Sam sees the smugness increase when he admits to watching Cas, then it falls from Dean's face the moment he mentions Cas stirring. Dean stops unpacking and walks straight over to the bed, where Sam is standing.

"He woke up?" Dean asks.

"No, he just moved slightly and his breathing increased, that's why I was watching him."

"When?"

"About ten minutes ago, maybe more," Sam says. "A good sign I would say." Sam sees Dean nod and then goes back to the unpacking of the bags, glancing more frequently at Castiel than before.

"I have to go check something out, I'll be back in a couple of hours and before dark hopefully," Sam says reaching out for the keys to the car. Sam expects Dean to question him, where was he going and why. But Dean simply hands him the keys. "I'll see you later." Sam grabs a burger and leaves. Dean waves half-heartedly while eating his food and unpacking with the other hand.

Sam sits in the car outside, his expression is stony, and he clenches his jaw, holding the wheel firmly. He wasn't going to tell Dean where he is going because he didn't want to be told it is a bad idea, which it kinda is. Sam had expected an inquiry, even had a fake excuse ready. He never likes it when Dean questions every move he makes, but somehow, not being asked at all, was worse.

***

The black nothing goes on and on, faint sounds and light are intermittent. A slow, steady thump-thump is reassuring in its continuous beat. Inside a light flickers, like a candle in a draft. A vague awareness starts to unfurl from the recesses of a damaged mind, growing and spreading. Castiel feels like he is swimming in a black quicksand, its ready to suck him back under at any second. He cannot quite place where he is or what he is supposed to be doing, but it feels like he is hiding. Castiel considers what he is hiding from and why, but no thought presents itself. Every time he tries to place himself or a memory, it feels like looking into a carnival mirror, that focus just doesn't seem possible. Instead, he tries to remember something, anything that could lead him to where he is now.

Green, he remembers the green and glittering sunlight cascading through a viridian canopy. He focuses and he remembers the way that it filtered through and speckled Dean's hair with bright corona. Dean, he remembers Dean, standing next to a huge pine looking at something inscribed into the bark. He had felt content, even though they were looking for someone, but something had happened. Castiel tries to push harder into the memory but a light permeates his thoughts and it is unbearably bright. He retreats again. This isn't right, he thinks, why can I not see past the light. He tries repeatedly to look, but each time the vivid whiteness repels him. Castiel tries a different tact; instead, he concentrates on Dean again, just looking at him instead of the light.

This time he sees Dean turn and look at him in fear, Dean grabs hold of him, he is shouting Castiel's name but he cannot respond, no words will come out. He sees Dean looking round holding his gun. Dean's face is serious and he can see that Dean is frightened. Then Castiel is aware that he is being carried and he can hear Dean's desperate heartbeat. He can feel the light on his face, it is following them, and its presence is burning him. He is unsure how long Dean travels holding Castiel, but he can feel the younger man's trembling muscles beneath him, his gasping breaths sound dry, and rasping to Castiel. This is no small effort on Dean's part and it heartened Castiel that Dean were making it for him.

When the white fire finally catches up with them, Castiel remembers. He knows what it is, he must tell Dean of the danger they are in, but his mouth won't move. The gelatinous state his mind is in won't let him and he knows why; it was a side effect of coming into contact with one of _them._ He was lucky he wasn't dead, Dean was even luckier. But knowing gave him the clarity he sought and he could finally focus on his goal; waking up.

Castiel opens his eyes.

The room is dim and the only light is the random flickering from the television. He looks round and sees Dean lying on the couch, head back, mouth open snoring loudly. Dean has a beer in his hand, resting against his chest, which is rising and falling with each deep breath he takes. There are four empty bottles on the floor by the couch and an empty food container. Castiel sits up in the bed and feels some joints crack from the lack of movement. He is glad to see Dean is resting after his ordeal. He contemplates waking Dean up, but suspects he needs the rest. He feels his vessels pain in the form of a thumping headache, but it's nothing he can't ignore. He knows he should tend to himself but his experience has left him weary, his mind still slightly sluggish. He tries to focus, as he did before, and clear his mind.

Castiel is not sure how long he has lain in this bed but it must have been some time, he coughs and he feels that his throat is dry. Swinging his legs round, Castiel gets up from his bed and walks over to the table, where there are a few cans of soda. He takes one and opens it, the loudness of the gas releasing seems explosive, in the silence of the room. He looks at Dean, who does not stir but continues to snore, and he wishes he knew what it is about Dean that he finds so compelling. Looking at the hunter now, Castiel feels protective towards Dean, and grateful. Once again, Dean has proved to Castiel, that he is brave in the face of danger. But Castiel already knows this, from the day he pulled Dean out of Hell. Castiel suspects now, although not then, he was ordered to retrieve Dean because of the risk involved in entering Hell's dominion. He had been disposable but faithful, just in case he succeeded. How he had changed since then, all because of Dean, all for Dean. His fate, inexorably tied to Dean's, until the day he ceased to be, which he felt would probably be sooner rather than later. He had died once for his sins and no doubt, he would do so again.

Looking at Dean, Castiel feels a stirring within him. He recognises that his friendship with Dean is something he desires, and while the concept of leading his own destiny is new, being free to do anything or go anywhere, he knows that destiny to be just behind wherever Dean is leading. It is the strength of that conviction that surprises Castiel, never has he felt so drawn to anyone, as he does to Dean.

There is a sudden smashing of glass and a startled Dean is sitting up dead straight, and staring at him in wide-eye surprise.

"Goddamn it, Cas!" Dean says, his hand gripping his chest as though his heart might jump out. "What the hell are you trying to do to me?"

"I'm not trying to do anything; I was merely waiting for you to wake up."

"How long?"

Castiel furrows his brow in confusion; he dislikes the way Dean occasionally made him feel stupid. "I do not understand, what do you mean how long?"

"I mean, how long have you been standing there watching me sleep?" Dean's voice rises, clearly annoyed.

"I do not know," Castiel starts to see that humans do not like to be watched when they are asleep, "I am sorry if I have made you uncomfortable that was not my intention. My mind is not fully functioning yet." Castiel watches as Deans face changes through a series of expressions, finally settling on guilty, and then he struggles to express himself.

"Damn. Sorry, Cas," Dean wipes his hand over his face, as though he were clearing away the guilty feeling as well as the grogginess of sleep. Dean takes out the last beer, unscrews the top, and hands it to Castiel. Castiel looks at the beer and then at Dean, sure he is missing something. "How are you feeling? Do you know what happened?" Dean swigs the remnants of his own beer and speaks before Castiel can answer him. "All I know is, we weren't alone out there, and whatever it was, it dropped you and we weren't hanging about to find out exactly how nasty it was."

"You made the right decision given the circumstances," Castiel says.

"Damn skippy I did."

"I do know what we experienced in the wood, however, and I suggest, strongly, that we leave it be."

Dean cocks his head, "Cas, you know us better than that; we aren't leaving anything that likes munching girl scouts cookies, including the scout! Evil crap like that has to be returned to the sender, you know."

"I do know, but this is different. Firstly, it isn't evil, far from it in fact, this being is a force of good."

Dean just stares at Castiel for a moment, "I disagree, it popped your mind and chased us out the woods!"

"I can see why you would perceive it so."

"What do you mean I can see why you would perceive it so," Dean, clearly irritated, gets louder.

"It didn't chase us, it was merely curious," Castiel is becoming annoyed himself, Dean's defensiveness, when he didn't understand something was draining.

"What do you mean curious?"

"Dean this would go much faster if you didn't keep repeating back what I say."

"What do you…?" Dean stops mid flow and glares at Castiel. "What the hell was it?"

"It was an Ascended."

AN: This became much longer than I intended, but you don't mind, right? I have started the next chapter, but I also have a two-part 1200 word essay to write for the New Year, so I suspect the next chapter will come in the New Year. Happy Winter Solstice :D


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

"An ass ended what?" Dean looks bewildered.

"An Ascended human," Castiel replies patiently.

"An Ascended human?" Dean repeats in frustration, "What the hell is an Ascended human?"

"A mortal, like you, who transcends and becomes a divine being," Castiel notices how uncomfortable Dean gets when he does not quite understand. He gets loud and repeats most of what Castiel says, next would be frowning, the disbelieving tone, and defensive sarcasm. These were not admirable traits but Castiel understands that sometimes humans have trouble assessing new information, especially if it is outside their sphere of knowledge or 'comfort zone' as he had heard Sam call it.

Dean folds his arms across his chest and frowns at Castiel. "Wait, you're telling me that us monkeys can become real boys? How is that even possible?" Dean's tone is incredulous.

Castiel looks slightly confused at Dean's reference, but ploughs on regardless. "I will explain. A Demon was human once, but acted with malevolence in its human lifetime. An Ascended is a human who acts with benevolence within its human lifetime. In the same way a Demon is eventually tainted by evil, an Ascended is a force driven by good. They are humans who have died but have remained as protectors and guardians, a sort of rebirth, if you like."

"You mean like the Buddhist rebirth?" Dean says, "Some sort of reincarnation deal?"

Castiel thinks and recalls what he knows about Buddhist belief to mind, he nods at Dean, "Yes, that is sort of their… deal." Castiel struggles with Dean's colourful terminology, which is laced with cultural references that Castiel does always not understand. Gone were the days where humans had a simple language and the longer time went on, the harder it was to comprehend the meaning behind the spoken word. But Castiel is always open to learning and made the effort to study the differences. "Saṃsāra is the deal you are referring to, the cycle of life, death, and suffering. They believe their holy men, Lamas, are enlightened, and that they choose to stay behind to teach and suffer, so that the rest of humankind may learn to break the cycle of Saṃsāra. This seems true of the Ascended, they help those who suffer and change the lives of those they want to come in contact with."

"You're telling me that Clarence can really get his wings?"

At last, a reference Castiel gets, or at least thinks he does, "I do not know why it happens or how, but yes, in essence these people do become powerful beings." Castiel wishes Dean could see how, what he had just said, bore so much resemblance to their own situation. Except Castiel lost his wings for Dean, not gained them.

"So, like, people like Mother Teresa could be Ascended?"

"Yes, and she is not."

"Really, not Mother Teresa?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"She may well become more in time, but as I said I do not understand the process."

"So what now? Go out there, touch base, and have ourselves a chit-chat?"

"Any meeting or efforts to talk to these beings has resulted badly, several Angels have died because of them. I am unsure why it was so lenient with me." Castiel fears that Dean will want to go back into the forest and while Castiel knows he will follow, he does not want to pass out again as he did before. He does not want to put Dean at risk; he is sure Dean would try to help him again. He surprised by a warmth that follows the feeling in his chest.

"Lenient? You're joking right?"

"I wish I were, Dean, but Ascended dislike Angels as much as they dislike Demons, and tend to smite either without any questions being asked. It allowed me to live and I can only assume this was because I have fallen and no longer connected to the rest of my brethren. Trying to contact it would be an act of suicide."

"So you only think to mention these powerful ascended humans now?"

"When should I have mentioned it?" Castiel feels confused again. Trying to anticipate what Dean might require is exhausting.

"Before now for Christ's sake."

"How am I supposed to know what information is pertinent or even interesting to you, Dean, I have millennia of knowledge, and I simply don't have the time to pick out the parts you might find relevant, even if they were within your ken." Castiel's tone drops as annoyance creeps up from inside.

"Are you saying I'm stupid?" Dean crosses his arms and glowers at Castiel.

"No, I am saying you do not have the capacity to understand everything I know or have experienced."

"That sounds to me like you're saying I'm stupid."

"No, Dean, not stupid, merely limited by your race's closed horizons."

"Oh that's just peachy, not only am I stupid, but the rest of us evolved apes are retarded as well. Way to go insult a species, Cas, really spectacular." Dean's tone is accusatory, "In fact, why are you still hanging around?"

Castiel does not understand why the frustration Dean is feeling is turning to anger towards him but he starts to resent the surly way in which Dean is addressing him. "Quite why I am spending my remaining time protecting an unappreciative Hell's spawn, who has no grasp of gratitude or indeed the lengths to which I go to keep him in the life he has become accustomed to; I do not know."

"Well, if I'm holding you back, Clark, feel free to go jump into a phone booth and save the world alone." Dean's brow furrows and his eyes light, but Castiel can see him putting up those Winchester defences.

"If you think you don't need the help, then I'll leave. And as for holding me back that would imply that you are keeping me here, which simply isn't the case." Castiel knew Dean was the only thing keeping him here, but somehow admitting that feels wrong.

Dean looks dumbstruck for a moment, mouth gaping, he recovers quickly enough to say, "Help? You call what you have done, help? You and your kind have interfered and caused the apocalypse, gee what do you do to people you don't help?"

"My brethren were wrong to do what they did, including ordering me to raise you from the fire of your own making. How short your mortal memory is, though you certainly made an impression on those poor souls you cut into, I am sure they remember you." The step too far is taken and Dean's fist lands squarely in Castiel's face before he has time to regret the words he has uttered. Castiel stands, physically unharmed, and looks at Dean who is clearly hurt and angered by his words. He does not try to defend himself.

Castiel does not drop his penetrating gaze, "That anger you feel for me now, is your own guilt eating away at you, the violence, is the shame fighting to be heard." Dean raises his fist again, but it is half-hearted. He shoves Castiel away. Castiel watches Dean crumble at the edges of his machismo. Dean sits down heavily and pulls out his bottle of comfort. He opens it; and swallows long, hard gulps.

Castiel watches Dean drink and an uncomfortable feeling blooms in his chest. Seeing Dean in obvious pain is hard to watch but Castiel understands something that Dean does not; he is not alone. Castiel is surprised by the depth of his want to make Dean feel better although there is little he can do. What Castiel does know, however, is that Dean needs to get out of the rut he has allowed himself to fall into. Dean would call it tough love; Castiel has heard the phrase when Dean talked about Sam, but now he understands what it means.

"Oblivion is not preferable to life, Dean," Castiel states.

"Oh yeah, says who… you? What do you know about living?" The alcohol has dimmed the brightness in Dean's eyes and Castiel feels something in his chest drop. Dean's self-pity is sickening to him.

"I have existed for a very long time, Dean, seen many things."

"And you call that living do you?"

"Yes."

Dean laughs a nasty mocking laugh, "You have no idea what it is like to experience life. When have you ever felt happiness or misery, unless you've been ordered to inflict it on some poor sap?"

The truth Castiel knows is that he has only felt those things in recent times.

"Some poor sap like you, Dean? Would you prefer I left you where I found you?"

"The truth is you only pulled me out of there because you got ordered to. And that threat just doesn't cut the mustard anymore, chuckles; you couldn't throw me back even if you wanted to."

"And why is that, Dean? I rebelled, I lost my connection to all I have ever known," Castiel feels an overwhelming anger surge up, burning inside his chest. "I gave everything, _everything_, I had to give to you, and I did it in spite of your womanising, your deals with Demons and your descent into your self-made Perdition. I may have been ordered to pull you out, but I chose to mutiny and it is I who choose to remain and help your ungrateful soul." Castiel turns to leave but stops and settles his ancient unwavering, stare upon Dean. "You are right about one thing, Dean; I never knew what misery felt like until I met you." This time Castiel leaves without breaking stride or looking back.

***

Dean sits still, perching on the end of the bed. He feels a deep sense of loss inside, the pit of his gut is churning, and he just wants to run away. He takes the bourbon out of his jacket, unscrews the cap, and places the rim on his lip. The vapour wafts up from the shaft and he smells the comfort he needs, except Castiel's cutting concourse is reverberating around in his head and somehow, this makes the normally reassuring smell, unpleasant.

He has been here before, self-sabotage being a forte of his, watching someone - who gave a crap about his shitty self – walk away. At times, he wondered why he pushed people away, even Sam, but at other times, he knew exactly why. The crux of the matter is that Castiel scared the bejesus out of him. He still, after all this time, cannot understand why Castiel is here helping him. Dean wakes up most days expecting never to see the Angel again, to find that he has, at last, gone to find something better than the Winchester take on life. And each day that Castiel turns up Dean is glad to see him, relieved that he has one more day at least. He has become accustomed to Castiel's friendship and in Dean's book, that's pretty damn rare. But his attachment to the Angel frightens him; it's the fear of never seeing him again that really yanks Dean's chain. Castiel had died once and whether Lucifer, Daddy, or whatever cosmic force, had seen fit to bring him back, Dean was grateful. He had not liked the feeling when he'd found out Cas had been ganked by his fellow dicks with wings.

It was that feeling that sent Dean into his dark place. It was the reason why he pushed Castiel away rather than reaching out, as he had wanted. Dean fights what he feels and forces it downwards. He will not acknowledge it.

The cap goes back on and the drink remains untouched. Dean tosses the bottle on to the bed. He still feels tired, yes because of the booze, but more because he was mentally exhausted. He checks the time and sees is that Sam has been gone for two and a half hours. Nothing new there, so Dean lies down on the bed and attempts to sleep off the rest of the drink. He lays awake for ten minutes before he realises he is lying in the bed Castiel slept in, he gets up, goes over to his own bed and lays with his back to Castiel's bed.

Dean drifts into a dreamy borderland, between reality and his own subconscious. At first, it is a pleasant place filled with comfort and women, mostly from porno's he'd watched the day before and one girl he saw in the reception of the motel, wearing skintight jeans. He drifts in and out of various scenarios, limit only by his own imagination, which weren't saying much so the plot is pretty simple. But then, it gets colder and he finds himself alone. He sees the woods that he carried Castiel through and glimpses the Angel through the foliage. Dean follows but Castiel is always just out of sight. He starts to run and branches whip his face, but Dean ignores it in his desperation to get through to Castiel. Dean feels like he is running through the air but finally he reaches Castiel and he grabs hold of him. Castiel looks at where Dean's hand grasps him and smiles, a small warm smile. He looks up into Dean's eyes, his gaze is bright with feeling, and he reaches up, strokes Dean's face whilst leaning in to touch Dean's lips with his own.

Dean wakes with a start and flails his arms wide, knocking his gun and bottle off the bed stand. The bottle smashes and the smell of booze floats up to Dean, who is panting from the sudden wake up call. His eyes are wide, he feels his heart is beating faster than normal and there is a gnawing feeling in his stomach. He sits up and grabs his gut, twisting his hand in an effort to make the feeling go away. He rubs his eyes and tries to make the vision in his head crawl back into the dark place it came from. Dean gets up, avoids the broken glass, and starts stripping off his clothes: a shower being the order of the day. A very cold one.

In the shower, Dean tries to visualise a naked woman, any naked woman. But his fear and repulsion at his dream just keep thrusting through. How he has dreamt such a thing, Dean cannot understand, and he tries to reason that it must be the lack of any male, who he wasn't related to, being around. Bobby was practically their father, so he didn't count. At the thought of Bobby, Dean almost hears him calling Dean a 'whiney she-bitch'; he can see the look on Booby's face. He is simply confused at having such a close friend who wasn't Sam and after the row they had, Dean reasons he simply doesn't want to lose his friend. Ok then. Next step would be bury the dream, find Cas, find a way to say he is sorry without actually saying it and everything could go back to normal.

Dean opens the shower door and steps out only to see Castiel standing there looking at him. Dean jumps back into the shower, slips, but manages to keep standing.

"Dude! I have told you before… Boundaries, boundaries!" Dean curses under his breath and reaches out for the towel. Castiel just stares at him. "Towel, for the love of…" Dean trails off as Castiel gives him the towel, still silently watching. Dean stares at him angrily, "Out!" Castiel blinks and walks out the room. Dean gawps at the closing door in disbelief, this person was supposed to be his friend, yet he drives Dean nuts. He towels off and dresses quickly, thinking how annoyed he is that Castiel saw him naked. But even with his clothes on, Castiel could see his very being, naked. This thought makes Dean feel small and vulnerable, and he reacts in the only way he knows, with anger, resentment, and possibly more violence.

Castiel is standing by the door when Dean emerges. "I have told you many, many times, when Sammy and me go into the little room to wash and whatever, you stay _out!_ It's a small but pretty damn important rule!"

Castiel nods slowly, "I understand, Dean, I am sorry I forgot you like to cleanse and defecate in solitude, but I needed to tell you I have a message from Sam," He holds up his cell. "Sam has gone to the forest to examine the runes, alone. He is in great danger."

At the mention of Sam's name and the word 'danger' in that same sentence, all thoughts of anger towards Castiel dissipate momentarily. Dean does a quick bit of mental arithmetic, discovers Sam has been gone five hours and it most definitely is dark now. He picks up his phone and sees no message. Sam would have checked in by now if he had changed his plans or something had come up. Why hadn't Sam messaged him? In fact, now he came to think on it, why had Sam messaged Cas at all? As far as Sam knew, Cas was still in dreamland. He walks over to where his gun lies on the floor, amidst the broken bottle and puddle of brown liquid. He sees Castiel note the broken bottle, but thankfully, the Angel remains quiet.

"Sam should be back by now, we are going to have to go look for him," Dean knows he'll have to save the who, what, and why, for later. He doesn't notice that he says 'we' instead of me.

Castiel frowns, "Dean, if I go with you, I don't know if I will be able to remain conscious or even survive in the presence of this creature."

"So don't come, I can get Sam on my own. Won't be the first time I have hauled him out of a bad ass situation, your free to do as you please, as you so eloquently pointed out before." Dean grabs the keys to his car and walks out slamming the door, just as Castiel had done to him earlier; see how he likes them apples.

***

Sam is starting to think that he has wasted his time. The light is starting fade and the trees are casting long, scary looking shadows that dance around the leaf littered ground. The air has cooled though and Sam is happy he is not sweating out of every pore. He sips the bottle of water he brought with him and glances about, hoping to see a glimpse of the girls. If he could avoid the search effort that would be just dandy as well, he really didn't want to have to explain what he was doing up here.

Still, being here is better than watching an Angel sleep, he thinks. The contrast of being out of the stuffy motel room, within the woods is rejuvenating to Sam. He is aware that this is the second time he has been in the woods alone, he is finding that he seeks out time for himself more frequently these days, being around his brother is just a little more exhausting these days. He doesn't even want to think about the consequences if Castiel stays unconscious, it just turned his mind around in circles and he is left back at the beginning again.

Looking up through the darkening canopy, Sam knows he must leave empty handed or he won't be able to return to the car. He turns around and starts to venture back. He sees a light in the east and follows it, it bobs erratically, Sam thinks it might be a torch of some kind being held pretty low down. The light is intermittent and casts around as though someone is looking for something. Sam considers it might be one of the search and rescue team, but without knowing for sure Sam risks getting a little closer to confirm.

After a few minutes he starts to catch up and he can see it is a young blonde girl, she is carrying wood. Up ahead he can see the outline of a wooden building, small and shack like, possibly a hunters rest. He hangs back and watches her going inside, shutting the door carefully; he creeps up to the single window and peers in. The other girl is lying in a cot and seems pale, clearly ill, or injured. Sam looks for someone else but cannot see anyone. He reaches out to open the door but then feels coldness spread over his skin like ice water; he freezes and slowly turns. A young man stands behind him, his eyes a ferocious blue, his expression intense and entirely focused on Sam. Sam lifts his hands up in a submissive fashion and turns to face him properly. The man leans forward and looks directly into Sam's eyes; to Sam it feels like he is looking into his very soul, Sam stays still. After a moment, he backs away from Sam and opens the door, he waits until Sam realises that the door is open for him to enter. Not knowing what else to do Sam walks through the rickety door.

Inside, the blonde girl looks at Sam in surprise and looks questioningly at the blue-eyed man. The man merely points to a chair and Sam sits. Again, Sam is subjected to the intense stare but the cold feeling has gone, Sam tries to keep the man's steady gaze but he cannot, and eventually, he has to look away.

The blonde girl approaches Sam with a cup in her hand and throws it in his face. Reacting quickly, Sam puts up his hands but is soaked by the cold water in the cup. Immediately Sam's mind jumps to the obvious conclusion, that these people have had contact with Demons and have some knowledge of how to deal with them. He starts to understand their fear and seclusion.

He looks at the blonde girl who splashed him, he puts out his hand in greeting and tries honesty, "Hello, my name is Sam, and I'm not a Demon, I am a Demon hunter."

The girl looks toward the dark haired man and when he nods, she takes Sam's hand and shakes it, "I'm Magda, this Kayleigh," she points to the girl lying on the bed. Sam looks at the man and Magda says, "We don't know his name, but he helped us, he doesn't speak much."

Even though he isn't looking at the guy, Sam can feel the gaze boring into the back of his head. The way that felt reminded him of Castiel, but he hoped this being, whatever it was, couldn't see him that clearly. Sam fears what might be glimpsed deep down inside. "What's wrong with Kayleigh?" Sam kneels down beside the cot assessing what is wrong with her, but can see no visible signs of damage.

"A Demon was inside her, but he saw what was there and made it leave. She hasn't woken up since, but he said she would get better." Magda looks over to her friend frowning.

Sam stands and runs his hand through his hair, "I can get help, or if you like I can take you to safety."

The man shakes his head, "No."

"Why not?" Sam replies.

"We must wait."

"What are we waiting for, exactly? We need to get Kayleigh to a hospital."

Sam watches as the man looks up and Magda says, "He is waiting for the light to come back."

"What light is that, Magda?"

Magda thinks for a moment, "When the black stuff inside Kayleigh was hurting her, the man came with the light and made it go away. But the light was bright and I had to look away. It was pretty."

Sam has little time to comprehend the nature of what Magda has said before the shack is drenched in light from the outside. Through the one window, the light cuts like a laser and momentarily blinds those within. Sam hears the door open but can do nothing about it, and he can't look into the radiance, it is too bright.

***

A/N: Delay in getting this one out due to Essay, but finished in the end. Chapter five should be out within two weeks, or less if I get more free time. I hope you have enjoyed this addition, let me know what you thought or just even that you've read it :) Thanks.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

When Dean slams the door leaving Castiel standing inside the motel room on his own, he is angry. He is pissed that they can't seem to have one conversation without bickering like two girls. He is glad that Cas came back and told him about Sam despite the fact they had been shouting at each other not a few hours before.

What he could not understand is why Sam went back up there alone; he thought they were past this sort of bullshit where he had to second-guess Sam's every move. Sam promised him no more lies. Dean is starting to get angry again and it just drains him dry of caring, he is past caring, but he must go and get his brother - if only to kick his ass. Knowing a little of what Sam might be going out there to face, Dean hurries and finds an old jeep to hotwire, throws his bag in the passenger seat and revs hard.

Dean drives up to the wooded area where the creepy but empty house sits. The Impala sits there like a sleeping cat with all that feral power hidden under the dark hood. He parks and gets out and inspects the car; he strokes it as he walks round. He sees that Sam has left it locked and Dean places his hand on the bonnet feeling for the heat that signifies the car was running recently. It is cold.

He gets the flashlight out of the bag he is holding, and points it in the direction of the wooded verge. It is very dark out and it wasn't the first time Dean had been out in the woods on his own at night. He starts to venture forward casting the flashlight across the leafy floor. The light cascades through the leaves and branches, in a bright contrast to the black waiting to envelope him. Dean calls for Sam, not shouting, but loudly enough for Sam to hear from several yards away.

There is little to see but Dean looks anyway. He gets out a compass and notes the direction he is heading. It would be easy enough to be turned around in this place and lose track of where he is, especially if the shit hit the proverbial. God, I really hate this crapola. He is starting to wish he hadn't been so stupid; telling Cas not to come hadn't been a smart move by any stretch. What had he been thinking?

Cas had only been awake a few hours and Dean had managed to have cause to strop away. Dean was pissed at his stupid ego, he had been so worried about Cas and the thought of him not waking up had Dean's guts tied up in knots. He hated to admit to himself that he felt a little lost without Cas backing him up; he had forgotten what life was like before Cas. A small part of him suspected or at least hoped optimistically that Castiel was in fact keeping a roving Angel eye on him. He did not feel completely alone, but that could also be the woods giving him the heebie-jeebies.

Dean searches for Sam for over an hour, trudging about, tripping over fricking tree roots, and generally having a ball. He surprises a few nocturnal mammals and a few sleeping ones too, they were none to grateful either. Dean is starting to get to the point where he can't see what he will be able to achieve in the dark, but he'll damn well still be here at daybreak looking for Sam. And it is when he is untangling himself that he sees the bright white light blossoming far out in front. He immediately starts running towards the beacon, hoping that it does not go out before he can get his uncooperative legs over there. It occurs to him, as he is panting and puffing through the woods, how much easier this part would be if Cas were here.

He reaches the perimeter of where the light cascaded out, but it is dimming so Dean picks up the pace and drops a gear. Ahead he can make out some sort of shack, small and crappy looking, but it appears as though something had an interest in being there, and so did Dean. He reaches the shack and peers in the window, he can see Sam rubbing his eyes painfully, and the two girls they were looking for, he assumes. The other guy, the one with his back to the window, seems to be talking to one of the girls. Dean pulls his gun out of his waistband. Dean has never been the think-it-through kind of guy, he'd managed to stay alive by reacting on impulse, sometimes that split second being all there was between him and death, but you know, he tried not to dwell on that part.

Before rational thought entered his mind, Dean opened the door. He stepped through but no one seemed to be looking at him, the girls in front had their eyes resolutely fixed upon the dark haired man, standing with his back to Dean.

Dean gawps for a few seconds and then meets Sam's gaze. Sam is giving Dean the softly-softly hand signal. In other words, Sam has no idea what this guy is doing but it worries him, therefore it should worry Dean too. Dean steps forward and says, "Hi!"

The dark haired man turns and looks at Dean. Dean steps back. Man was obviously the wrong word; this dark haired thing's eyes glowed like uranium. A few things crossed Dean's mind, like weird frigged up demon, possession etc. But he did not get much further than that when he found himself thrown against the wall. He watched helplessly as Sam is thrown out of the shack with violent force.

The glowy-eyed dude approaches him; he stares at Dean for an uncomfortable minute and then smells Dean. He takes a long lingering sniff and Dean is repulsed but tries his best not to show it. The girl is watching him with interest and waits for the sniffing to finish.

When Glowy speaks his tone takes Dean by surprise, it is soft and menacing. "I detect the odour of Hell upon you. I feel the mellifluous touch of an Angel scribed into you; I sense his mark of redemption. What a strange human you are."

"Not human, just Dean."

"Well, Dean, you are a paroxysm of an enigma. Which side do you favour? Dextrous or Sinister, I wonder?" Glowy steps back from him and allows his feet to touch the floor. Dean can move but feels the force that was holding him is still there.

"Er… what?" The language glowy used was hurting Dean's head.

"Are you Angel or Demon chattel?"

"Chattel?"

"Whose slaughter lamb are you?" Finally, words he got. Wait. Slaughter lamb?

"I'm no-one's fricking slaughter lamb, chattel or any other stupid word you can think of rather than using plain fricking American."

"You are saying you come down on neither side?"

"I don't cheerlead. Period." It was Glowy's turn to look confused at the words. Ha.

"Then why do you travel with an Angel and Hell-tainted?"

Dean stops and thinks. He desperately tries to think of a simple good reason that could explain his situation without having to explain years' worth of events. Then he says, "They both rebelled, they aren't on any side either."

"And they travel with you because they like your company?"

Dean looks at Glowy and for the first time wonders if it is playing with him. A slight flicker of a smile, then Glowy turns away when Dean does not reply.

Glowy tells the girl to get into bed with her friend and try to sleep. He tells her he will watch them until dawn and then take them home. Dean remains silent, wondering if Sam is ok. Hoping that Castiel is loitering outside somewhere.

* * *

The immediate relief Sam felt when his brother walked in, dissipated when Dean said, 'Hi,' in that false cheerful way that Sam recognises as Dean's bravado, when he has no clue what to do. Dean hadn't heard what the weird lit guy had said and had no clue what was happening. Sam didn't get the chance to tell him either, as he was immediately expelled from the hut.

Being unconscious was something Sam disliked; waking up from unconsciousness was something he hated. For a minute or so, he had no clue where he was or what he was doing, only that his head sang a painful song and there was a taste of blood in his mouth. He turned his head and spat the blood out, then laughed at the irony.

He remembered being expelled from the hut and could see it twenty feet or so away. There were a few bent saplings marking his path to his current position. He stood up and thought about what to do next. The sound of snapping foliage drew his attention from Dean and to his immediate vicinity. Castiel was creeping up on him unquietly.

"Cas?" Sam didn't know why he asked as he could see the Angels trench coat, but better safe than sorry.

Castiel looked at Sam in confusion, "Where is Dean?"

Sam looked at Castiel angrily, "I'm fine; the blood dripping down my head is nothing."

Castiel's brow furrowed, "That's not what I asked. I said where is Dean?"

Disbelief and an immediate need to smack Castiel in the mouth pulsed through Sam. Dicks with wings is right.

"He's in the hut with two girls, one who was recently possessed by a demon, but this weird guy with glowing eyes helped them. He doesn't seem to like me much, he threw me out."

Castiel nodded, "That is to be expected."

"What is to be expected?"

"The Ascended's rejection of you."

"You knew what that thing was? Why the hell didn't you say?"

"You did not give me the chance; you went off by yourself before I woke up."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam did not like the judgey tone Castiel was using.

"Was I unclear? I was asleep when you left; I did not get the opportunity to inform you of the circumstances by which I was rendered unconscious."

"It just sounds to me like you are insinuating something, Cas."

"I was stating a fact. It is your guilty conscience making you aware of the foolish and painfully stupid act that got us here in the first place." Castiel's tone grew harsher as he spoke but no louder. Sam still wanted to punch him.

"I was investigating what we came here to do, unlike Dean, who wanted to halo-sit for three fricking days; I've had it with his sitting on his hands and drowning his sorrows in sour mash. I can't sit and watch him torture himself any more than you can, Castiel." Sam felt wrung out, arguing with the Angel was an emotional holocaust.

"Well that's the difference between us, Sam; I do not watch him drink."

Silence fell between them, one glowering at the other.

Then Sam realises he has missed something. "What do you mean it rejected me?"

Castiel looks wearily at Sam. "You are tainted. It can smell the Hell on you. They usually kill Demons and their kin on sight. Why it did not kill you I cannot explain."

"What about Dean? Will it know he was in Hell?"

"Probably. It knew what I was too. They kill Angels just as quickly as they kill Demons. I am at a loss to explain it."

Sam nodded. "I can understand why they'd kill both." There was bite in Sam's tone, he meant for Castiel to know just how irritating he found him. He had met a few Angels; he knew there was little difference between them and Demons sometimes. If Castiel noticed Sam's venom, he ignored it. That annoyed Sam even more.

Looking over at the hut Sam wonders if Dean is all right. He looks at Castiel, "What now?"

"We must go back up there, but only to watch. I don't want to interfere unless we are given no other choice."

"What about those girls?"

"It will not hurt them."

"You're willing to bet their lives on that?

Cas pauses for a moment before replying, "Yes," Then starts to walk up the slope to the hut.

Sam glares at Castiel. But a nasty thought burrows its way out of his mouth before he can stop it. "Willing to bet Dean's?"

Castiel slightly turns his head in Sam's direction. "Yes."

Sam watches the Angel's retreating back and once again imagines doing something superficially violent to him. He knew the anger came from his frustration and feeling left out of the God-squad. It was a total Bromance. Fuck it. He knew he was being totally ridiculous and that the distance between him and Dean was of his own doing but Castiel annoyed him. It brought out his puerile, pathetic side.

He follows Castiel and waits slightly behind him, hoping for a glimpse through the window. But he couldn't see a thing.

"Can you see anything?" Sam hates asking but does it anyway.

"Not much. Dean is sitting and talking to a dark-haired man."

"That's the one with the glowing eyes."

Castiel doesn't look away from the window, "Did his eye's glow the whole time?"

"No, only when this bright, white light shone in. I had to look away, and then the guy had glowing eyes."

"Did he say anything before the light?"

"No. He only spoke after."

"What did he say?"

"Something about penitence."

Castiel turned and growled at Sam, "What exactly did he say."

Sam's pissed off meter started to hit red. Castiel's tone, demeanour, and closeness were all factors that made this entire situation completely unpleasant. He bit back the nasty things he wanted to say, "He said he'd made a mistake and that he must pay due penitence. He didn't say why."

Then they both turned as the shack door opened and Dean stepped out into the darkness.

"Cas? Cas!" Dean half-shouted. "Are you out here?"

Castiel waved and Dean came forward grinning. "It's okay, the girls will be fine."

Sam looks at Dean suspiciously, wondering if he had been tricked or glamoured. He waves his hand in front of Dean's face, which Dean swats away, irritated.

"Seriously, Sam, I'm fine. I believe him. He is definitely not going to hurt those girls. We had a chit-chat and it's all good." Sam narrowed his eyes, something was not right. Dean looked uncomfortable.

"If you're sure, Dean."

"Never been surer about anything in my life."

They made their way back to the car and Dean drove like a demon all the way back to the motel. Sam did not ask him any more questions but still suspected there was more to it. But Dean would not have left those girls if he did not believe they were safe. Sam wondered if Dean were going to chew him out for going off on his own, he hadn't mentioned it in the car and now they were back, he'd thought he'd get it in the ear. But Dean had just disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

Castiel did not go back to the motel straight away. He went back to the hut and watched it for two hours before deciding that Dean was correct. It wasn't that he didn't believe Dean, he had, but he'd just wanted to make sure, just in case. The man with the dark hair was standing, watching over the children as they slept. And it was only as he watched he realised why Dean might think anyone watching him sleep might be creepy. Humans were so vulnerable when they slept. Of course, it was obvious to him now.

This realisation caused him to hesitate returning to the motel room Dean and Sam shared. They would be sleeping now. He struggled to find a good clear reason to return to them. Then he wondered why he was so desperate to go to them.

He moved from woods to car lot in a few moments and then sat on a bench by the vending machine. It would be dawn in a few hours and he would move somewhere else. But for now, he just wanted to sit and think. The flashing light of the vending machine drew his gaze as he considered the day's events. He tried to concentrate on evaluating the Ascended's actions but his mind kept wandering. He eyed the Twinkies in the vending machine and wished he had accepted Dean's attempt to give him money previously.

Standing up, Castiel walked over to the machine, looked around to see if anyone was about, and thumped it. He had seen Dean do this on a few occasions; he had said there was a knack to it. Clearly, Castiel did not retain that knack, as nothing happened. A shadow cast down from behind him and before he turned, he knew it was Dean, he needed no supernatural Angel sense to know it was him; he could smell the booze.

"Dean."

"Cas, didn't think you'd be robbing the vending machine." Castiel noticed Dean did not slur his words, but spoke slower. Dean thumps the side of the machine and a variety of confections fall down. He reaches in, grabs them for Castiel, and dumps them on the bench. "There you go. Oh hang on…" Dean then saunters off into his room and comes back out with two beers.

He twists the cap off one and hands it to Castiel. Castiel dutifully sips the beer and watches Dean thoughtfully. He is unsure of what Dean is doing but he was glad of the company and picks up the Twinkie from the pile of stolen goods. He sits down and Dean sits next to him. Castiel unwraps the sweet and takes a bite. Dean watches every movement he makes, smiling, sipping his own beer.

"We humans are good for something, eh?"

"Violence and cake, apparently."

"You know, if you laid on the couch, shut your eyes and threw a blanket on, no one would ever know you weren't asleep."

Castiel looks at Dean, who is resolutely looking out into the car lot, and feels a small amount of surprise. Dean was essentially saying he didn't mind if Castiel occasionally stayed in the motel room, if need be. Something lightened in his chest, it was unexpected and Castiel touched his sternum.

"Thank you, Dean."

"Yeah, well… I'll probably regret it in the morning. Like one of those dates you wished to God you'd never brought back."

Castiel's eyes sharpened, "I've never wished that you hadn't come back, and definitely not to God."

"That's not what I … Nevermind."

Castiel sensed that he were on the verge of something but couldn't quite figure out what it was. He grasped around in his head hoping to get an inkling, but nothing came forth. He must have taken longer than he thought by the time he looked at Dean again; the young hunter was asleep. Castiel picked him up and took him back to his room. He placed Dean on the bed, and left him, knowing that any undressing or interference on his behalf would get him chewed out.

Castiel laid down on the couch, shut his eyes and waited for the morning's light.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

_**Hello darkness, my old friend,  
I've come to talk with you again,  
Because a vision softly creeping,  
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,**_

_**- **_**Simon and Garfunkel**

Sleep for Sam had become a love/hate thing. When he got some, he loved it, but then the dreams would come; those he hated… those he dreaded. They revealed things to him that his conscious mind had pushed deep down in layers of denial and repression. The disturbing stuff was just fine buried as far as Sam could see; he didn't like what his mind dredged up. He favoured the sleep that brought a relaxing oblivion, by which he could escape his burdens for just a little while. But this night was not peaceful; his dreams were filled with fear and prophetic apocalyptic images. Sam feared for the future and he feared his role in it.

He awoke drenched in sweat, his heart beating as if he'd been on a run. In truth, he had been running, but as the dream faded so did the fear of what was chasing him. He pulled back the sheets and made his way to the bathroom. He stopped; he felt something out of place. He checked Dean. He was almost comatose and snoring; Sam saw the empties and knew Dean would sleep for a long while yet. He looked peaceful and Sam envied him, but did not wake him. Nor was he sentimental enough to remove Dean's jacket, make him comfortable, or throw a blanket on him. Mussing his brother about while he was sleeping off a drinking session was unpredictable to say the least; it was safer to leave him.

It was then that Sam noticed the figure lying on the couch. Sam crept forward for a closer inspection and saw that it was Castiel. Sam furrowed his brow trying to figure why Cas would be lying there. He looked around at Dean again; perhaps Castiel had brought him back. It would explain why Dean still had his boots on; they were usually the one thing he could manage to remove whilst that drunk.

"I am awake if there is something you need, Sam." Castiel's rumbling tone caused Sam to jump and his heart race again.

"Jesus, Cas!" Sam wiped his hand over his face and looked at the Angel with no small amount of incredulity and annoyance.

"Sorry, I did not mean to frighten you, but I couldn't tell if you needed something." Castiel's tone seemed sincere, but Sam gave him a glare the Angel probably wouldn't see in this gloom. And when Sam did not say anything straight away, Castiel added, "Is it time to arise?"

"No, it's still late; I was just getting up to… er, take a leak. Go back to sleep, meditate, or whatever." Sam did not see the look on the Angel's face and didn't hear a reply, so just went to the bathroom instead.

The mirror reflected Sam's sweaty sleep deprived face in sharp focus under the yellow florescent strip. It emphasised the haggard bags under his eyes and reminded him how sleep liked to play hide and go seek with him. He washed his hands, rinsed his mouth out, and looked back up at the mirror. Nope still looked like shit. As Sam stood straight, he felt a chill from behind, his eyes flicked to the mirror again and there was nothing but him. Sam's thoughts and action became reactive, whilst turning to look behind him, his mind had already assessed the lack of weaponry and had decided to duck and roll, if required. But there was nothing. His heart picked up his earlier rhythm and bounced around in his chest, but now he felt ridiculous as well.

The knock at the door at that precise moment sent a chill through his gut, his heart moving up to the next gear.

"Sam, are you alright?"

"Damn it, Cas," Sam said as he opened the door to the Angels concerned face. "What the hell is the matter with you? Scared me shitless."

"I felt the presence of the Ascended again." Castiel's voice had its game rumble on. His brow ridged and expression concerned.

"Just now?"

"Yes."

"I thought I felt something just now as well, it was cold and vague, but then you knocked on the door and scared the crap out of me."

Castiel did not apologise for making Sam jump and stared at him for a few moments. "I looked but could not see him, I cannot feel him anymore either. It is unusual, but I think that perhaps curiosity is drawing his attention. He has gone for now."

Sam exited the bathroom leaving the light on and looking round the motel room briefly. Just Dean, snoring. He was feeling drained and tired, he really could do with going back to sleep, he looked at Cas.

"Do you really think it's gone?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Yes, I do, I would know if it were near to us."

"Good. Can you keep watch tonight, Cas?"

"Yes, of course. You should get some rest, you look tired."

"Thanks, Cas." Sam's previous annoyance with Castiel passed a little when he realised how useful he would be while he tried to get a few more hours of sleep.

Sam got back into bed and snuggled down. He fell into a rem sleep, his dreams seeking release through reactive eye movements and facial tics. His dreams repeating the earlier matinee he'd already experienced.

When Sam opened his eyes, he knew that he was not awake. For one, he was standing in a wooded glade, sun shining, birds tweeting and all that jazz. Secondly, he was naked. There were occasions when he did sleep naked, but those occasions usually involved someone else being in the bed beside him. So that left a few alternatives, none of them particularly inviting. Looking around Sam then saw the Ascended as Cas called him. He was looking at Sam in an appraising way that Sam did not entirely care for.

"I don't know who you are, but we need to a whole lot better acquainted if you're going to see me naked."

"My name is Sheridan."

Sam couldn't help it, the laugh jumped out of him, a mild form of hysteria he knew but there he was laughing at the ridiculous name. "Really, Sheridan? That's your name."

"Yes it is." Sheridan did not seem to care that Sam was laughing at him, but continued to watch and stare. "What are you?"

Sam looked nonplussed, "I'm Sam. We already previously established that and then you expelled me from the hut."

Sheridan's face gave little away; he certainly didn't appear sorry for the way he treated Sam before. "You aren't normal."

"I'm human."

Sheridan smiled, "No. I am very sure you are not that. Your blood is laced with brimstone and I feel your multiple deaths."

"If you know what I am, why are you asking me?"

"I thought I knew Hellspawn when I saw one, but with you, I am not so sure."

"What makes me different?"

Sheridan looked him in the eyes, "Your intent is different. Add to that your brothers in arms; you do not make a likely triumvirate."

"Triumvirate? Like the witch kind?"

"Three men who have combined forces to serve a whole, equally."

Sam blinked, is that what he, Dean and Cas were doing? He'd never truly considered the way in which the three of them had teamed up, so this guy made an interesting point, where was he going with it? Sam jumped in feet first, throwing caution by adding, "We are trying to stop Lucifer and avert the apocalypse."

"Are you? That's an ambitious statement." Sheridan's tone lilted, surprised; he looked pleased too. "A rebelled Angel, a rebelled Hellspawn, and a penitent man. It's perfect, really, when you get past the irony." A smirk played across the man's lips.

Sam could not get past the irony because he could not see what it was, but clearly, this guy seemed to think they were doing something right, which was more encouragement than he'd received in months. Still, no reason to trust him either.

"What's ironic about it?"

"You will fail." Each word stabbed at Sam, emphasised by Sheridan's English accent.

"Why?" Sam's face contorted with confusion and disappointment.

"Oh that's simple really, but if you can't see the blindingly obvious, I am not illuminating your way for you." That smirk reappeared and annoyed Sam.

"If you can help, do so, but otherwise I'm done with this mysterious crap." Sam crossed his arms, feeling defensive and stupid that he couldn't see what Sheridan was talking about.

The smirk intensified and Sheridan moved closer to Sam, uncomfortably closer, but Sam did not give him any ground. "What are you afraid of, Sam? Truly, deeply, darkly afraid of? I think your fear will ultimately make _you_ fail."

Sam closed his eyes briefly, he knew what he feared.

Being the centre of Dean's world had pretty much been a given the whole of Sam's life. It smothered him at times, saved his life at others. He hated the fact that he was jealous, that someone else had managed to achieve that same status. Sam knew he shouldn't resent it, but no girl had ever really managed to get through to Dean the way that his friendship with Castiel had. Deep down Sam feared Dean had replaced the relationship that he'd had with Sam. Things had not been the same since Ruby; the day he chose a demon over his brother. Should he be forgiven? Would he ever forgive himself? Could he blame Castiel for not liking him much? When it came down to it, Castiel had given Dean everything he could, even his life, his grace, his place in heaven. Sam couldn't even give him a straight answer… was it any wonder that Dean sought out Cas?

The other side of Sam was glad Dean had Castiel to rely upon; Dean needed to have that to replace what Sam had taken away, an unshakeable trust. Deep in the dark place where Sam recessed the unthinkable thoughts, Sam knew Dean would need Cas when he was gone. Sam did not expect to survive; his logic had told him this was the end of the line, no more second chances, deals or sacrifice. Death touches all in the end.

What would he have to endure for the sake of his silence on the matter, what would he have to witness. It should have come down to what others will have to suffer, but if they died, it ended. That is not what was promised to Sam if they failed. He would have to live in Hell, while Dean would be saved from his. Sometimes Sam resented that but mostly he was damn glad of it, his brother should have his life and maybe get happy – he'd earned it.

So while Sam was fearful for Dean and those he loved, there were greater fears beyond them.

Sam's second greatest fear was a simple word, a short, simple affirmation that was loaded with agony, unending, enduring and all of his own volition.

Sam's worst fear was that he would say it.

"I will help you," was the last thing Sam heard as the woody dreamscape disappeared.

xxxxx

The sunlight viciously sliced its way through the gap in the motel curtains and into Dean's eyes, he did not stir at first but brushed at his face, trying to make the sunlight go away. When this did not work, he opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. "Shit." Dean managed to position himself without burning his retina's and took a moment to blink repeatedly until his normal vision returned.

Across the room, he could see Sam's bed was empty and the TV was on, but turned low. He winced and held his head for a moment; the brightness no longer directly in his eye's still wafted swimmingly close. He didn't remember getting into bed, but he felt scummy sleeping in his clothes. A shower was the order of the morning and he started by leaning forward and taking off his boots. He stood up and removed everything else, leaving a small pile beside his bed. Making his way over to the table, he picked up a can of soda from the night before and shook it slightly. On hearing the magic tinkle, he smiled and drank the remainder. He scratched himself, stretched and yawned, and made his way into the bathroom.

Of the many things he expected to find in the bathroom, a wet semi-naked Castiel was not one of them. The first regrettable thing was that he hadn't thought to knock; the second was the girlish squeal that left his lips as he tried to cover himself up. He grabbed a small towel and held it over himself. He was about to launch into a rant, when he looked at Castiel's hand, it was holding a blue toothbrush.

"Whose toothbrush is that?" Dean glared at Castiel's hand and then at Castiel himself. "Is that… is that my toothbrush?"

"Yes."

Furious, Dean reaches out and snatches the toothbrush out of Castiel's hand. "What the hell is wrong with you? You don't use another person's toothbrush… ever! Seriously, dude, you have no concept of privacy."

Castiel looks down, "I did not realise. I will not do it again."

The Angel's forlorn downturned face spikes a moment of guilt in Dean. He gives the toothbrush back to Cas, "Keep it; I'll get a new one. Just hurry up in there." Dean retreats and shuts the door. He contemplates getting dressed so that he can get a cup of coffee. The realisation that there was another person in the room came slowly to Dean, so much so that he didn't jump or get scared he just turned his head towards the interloper.

"Ah, there we are. I knew I'd get you attention eventually."

Dean closes his eyes briefly, hoping that when he opened them, the glowy-eyed dude would be gone. He opened them; Capt. Freak was still there, goddamn it.

"You." He said simply.

"Yes, moi. I thought I'd pop by as you didn't seem to want to continue our last chat in the presence of those adorable young girls."

"No, you are mistaken. I don't want to talk to you period." The memory of their last conversation made Dean scowl.

"Why so sulky, Dean? We are not in the presence of anyone."

"Cas is in the little boy's room, so yes we are."

"No, he's not.

Dean looks confused and then opens the bathroom door to find no Castiel. Glowy stood with a smug arrogance that made Dean want to do a violence to him. "Where the hell is he?" Dean felt his hackles rising.

"Resting for now." The smirk from Glowy intensified the need to hurt him. "Oh now, don't give me that look. He really is resting peacefully."

Was this guy for real; was he that powerful he could just whisk Castiel away like that? And then it came to him, "This is a dream isn't it?"

"Yes, but not just any dream, Hunter, it is _your_ dream." Glowy stepped forward, and gestured around the room, "This is your subconscious trying desperately to get your attention, for you, just like any other man, bury and ignore what might make you happy, because it might make you sad."

Dean did not like where this was going and didn't feel like having a trip down Freud St with a being who could, if he wanted to, fry his Jack soaked brain. "Why don't we talk about you?" Dean said with all the charm and tan of a chat show host. A flicker of darkness ran across Glowy's face and Dean rewarded himself with a smirk of his own, he'd hit upon something. Something juicy, he bet.

"Do you know what a selfless act is, Dean?"

"Yeah, sure."

"No you don't. You only think you do."

Dean bristled, just who did this dude think he was? His voice rose, emotion giving it rise. "I've given up a fricking lot for the people I care about and even for some I didn't. Don't tell me I don't know what sacrifice is."

"Sacrifice is not the same as selfless." The smirk was gone and Glowy gave Dean a pitying look that made Dean furious, "Sacrifice is usually a giving up of something in exchange for something else, I understand you know a little about those sorts of deals."

"You don't know what you're talking about and I'm warning you; back off." Dean breaths were shallow and his heart pumped from the adrenalin his anger created.

"Selfless is not selfish, Dean. You may have given up things in the past, but it was only to get what you wanted, to live with what you could not live without."

Dean wanted to argue, he wanted to say black was white, even when it wasn't, because he couldn't bear this smug bastard being right. He struggled, trying to recall a time where he could definitely say it was selfless. The alcohol had slowed his brain.

"You think that the way you live your life justifies some of the awful, horrific things you've done; that's not selfless. That's a trade-off. Dean, there are few selfless acts in the world; they are the little miracles that fire the light of hope."

Dean feels the weight of the sentiment and sees the hope and light dance in Glowy's lit eyes. It was hard not to feel what the dude was saying but Dean wanted him to be wrong, he wanted there to be more.

"So I don't do it for free, I get the do-good buzz sometimes. Surely better than joining Dante's exclusive club?"

"Yes, but your denial of feelings and events is crippling you, and if you do put a gun in your mouth - like you thought a few weeks ago - you'll go anyway."

It is Dean's turn to flinch and hold a dark expression on his face. The night he'd contemplated death for a few minutes, scared him – still scared him. The weight he carried, along with Sam, bore down long enough for him to despair, a selfish thought in a selfish moment. Goddamn these beings abilities to look straight into your soul, it was rude no matter how you look at it.

"Why are you in my head? Surely there are better, sexier places to be?" Dean's tone was tired; he had enough emotional battering, thanks.

"I'm here because I want humanity to win."

"Why if we're all such scumbags?"

"I am a witness."

"Witness to what?"

"A selfless act."

"Ok. Why do you talk about humanity as though you'd lost yours?"

"I didn't lose my humanity, Dean, I gave it up."

"Selflessly?"

"No, selfishly. I murdered, killed and raped my way through life."

Dean blinked, surprised. "Err… say what again?"

"I was and still am going to Hell, Dean. I killed, when I didn't have to, took what wasn't mine to take, and cared nothing for the people I stole it from; there is only one place for me."

"I'm confused. Castiel said you were a good dude, an Ascended or something, the conversation definitely stressed non-evil."

"I see where your Angel has it wrong. I serve the ascended being you speak of, I witnessed her perform a selfless act and I dedicated myself to her. She and I are one."

"You are a vessel?"

"No. I have heard that term before and it does not fit. I am not a container for her essence. I protect her; I do her bidding. Through me, she continues her great work. I have freedom of choice; I can leave her service at any time."

"Why don't you leave then?"

"I pledged service till one of us expires."

"Dude, how old _are_ you?"

"My name is Sheridan, and I am not as old as you think I am. But older than I appear."

"So what, is this some sort of redemption deal? You put the wings back on all the flies your tortured?"

"I cannot make up for what I have done, but I can choose to help. I can only hope to witness true compassion again."

"Well good luck with that, positive outlook and whatever."

Sheridan levels Dean with a gaze; it holds depth, experience, and a fuck tonne of violent capability. It makes Dean step back nervously, into the table behind him.

"You are a fool, Dean Winchester, and that idiotic wit and blasé charm will only carry you so far. If you push hard enough you will end up broken and alone. Open your eyes and start to see what you have around you."

"You don't know what you're talking about; I have all the friends and family I need. Don't lecture me, just 'cos you killed all yours."

And then Sheridan moved like lightening across the room, bridging the gap between them, he gripped Dean's throat tightly and lifted him slightly so that Dean was on tip toes. He glared into Dean's eyes, squeezing his throat until Dean's eyes bulged slightly.

"At every turn, as Castiel humanises himself, you thrust him back into his former Angelic self. You hurl abuse at him, insult him, and constantly remind him that he is not like you, not human, not Angel… nothing. He reaches out to you, Dean, and I know you can feel it, but you slap him away back into a no man's land he does not comprehend. And your brother, Dean, you push him away and do not forgive him his trespasses because that is easier than trying to work through it. So you have built up a wall of indifference and in this prison of your own making: you will die."

Sheridan releases Dean but does not step back.

"Have a little faith, Dean."

xxxxxxx

The cold, white light woke Castiel up with a start, he hadn't realised he had fallen asleep. As the light blazed around him, he knew that he was in a dream state and that he was not alone. How many times had he done such a thing to a human, he recognised it for what it was immediately. Only a powerful being would be able to penetrate his mind in such a way and Castiel reasoned logically that it must be the Ascended creature. Its strange behaviour worried Castiel; he knew that he would not be able to stop it if it came down to a fight and the fact it had managed to get inside his mind with ease – that was just disturbing. Briefly, he thought of Dean and again realised why the Hunter had found the 'mind meld' as he called it, so 'freaky'. It was not pleasant to have a presence uninvited in your head.

Castiel looked past the light and saw the man in the hut or 'Glowy-eyed freak'.

"Castiel." He stepped forward and stood in front of Castiel.

"Why are you here inside my mind?"

"Because I wished to discuss something with you."

"I am listening."

"Dean Winchester will be the death of you."

"Dean has already been the death of me, this is not news."

"Pardon me, I was not specific. He will be the death of you again."

Castiel shook his head slightly and smiled, "Again, this is not unknown. The war I fight is not one I expect to see the end of, but that does not stop me from trying."

"You don't mind dying for him?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Castiel felt a little bubble of nervous confusion bubble up from within him.

"Dean being just human after all."

"Whether he is human or not, does not enter into the equation; I will fight Lucifer till we win or die trying. Not succeeding isn't an option."

"No, I don't suppose it is. Is that why you follow him?"

"Yes."

"Even though some of the time what he does makes no sense."

"Yes."

"Interesting."

"I fail to see just why that would interest you."

"I am interested as to why a being, as powerful as you are, would submit to a human rather than following God's orders."

"My Father has been silent for some time."

"But the other Angel's still hold dominion over you, or they would if they could get a hold of you."

"Their rulings became increasingly misguided; I do not follow them because they allowed Lucifer freedom. They want the destruction of the human race."

"And you do not wish that?"

"God does not wish that."

"How would you know if he is silent?"

"God protected human's from Lucifer, he wishes them to live their lives unhindered by us."

"That must be a huge comfort."

"What is a comfort?"

"Protecting the humans and serving God. Gives you something to do I suppose, and the fatalistic outcome you expect for yourself, means you have served your purpose well."

"It is my destiny."

"Is it Castiel? Are you not free of Heaven and Hell, can you not find your own path now?"

"My path is linked with Dean's; I will not deviate from my obligation or duty."

"Let me ask you this, Castiel, do you expect Dean to survive?"

The Angel's gaze sharpened and he replied, "No, I do not expect him to survive, despite his ability to dodge death."

The man stepped forward and reached for Castiel, grasping his shoulder and meeting the Angel's gaze. "And knowing that you might ultimately fail and that destiny has a couple of extremely unpleasant deaths lined up for you and Dean, that doesn't change anything? Anything at all?"

"Why should it?"

"I think if you looked more closely you might find what it is you are afraid of, Castiel."

"You are mistaken if you think I am afraid of death."

"Oh I know your brave little Angelic soul is not afraid of death. I think you are afraid because there might be something to live for. What is so wrong with wanting something for yourself?"

"There is nothing I want for myself."

"Now that was a lie, I can sense them too."

"It is not a lie, I do not wish for anything."

"So there is nothing and no-one you care to live for, is that right?"

Castiel starts to shake his head, the 'no-one' forming on his lips, but stops, and then looks surprised.

"Ah, there it is, the eureka moment, the ignition of the spark."

Castiel furrows his brow, "Oh."

"Oh indeed. You have realised something then, Castiel?"

The Angel nods uncomfortably, uneasy thoughts racing through his mind. "Yes I have."

Sheridan looks impatient, "Well, what is it?"

"I want to live."


End file.
